


Conversations in the Crypt

by Baamon5evr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Brother-Sister Relationships, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, House Stark, Missing Scene, No Incest, Post-Season/Series 06, Pre-Season/Series 07, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baamon5evr/pseuds/Baamon5evr
Summary: Jon and Sansa talk and reminisce before Ned's newly installed effigy.





	Conversations in the Crypt

The crypt was lit up by torches when Jon and Sansa entered, giving the brown walls an almost ominous orange glow as they made their way past the sarcophagi of kings, lords and ladies long dead until they reached their destination. The sculptor was still there when they came to a stop brushing off errant dust and clay from the base of the effigy.

Sansa made a small noise at the sight of it causing the man to turn in surprise at seeing the two standing there.

"Your Grace, Princess, forgive me. I hadn't noticed you there." The man said hastily, bowing before them.

"It's alright, no offense was given." Jon reassured the man, his eyes straying to the stone and clay likeness of his father above the coffin which held his bones. He had Ice placed before him in his strong grip, though the replica of the greatsword didn't look as large in imitation as it had in life.

"You did us a great service, my lord. I thank you for all of your hard work." Sansa said in that way she spoke when she was delegating to servants or people lower-born. The man blushed slightly in the dim glow of the torches.

"You flatter me, Princess but I'm not a lord." He said bashfully. Jon was willing to bet Sansa already knew that.

"All the same, I thank you." The man nodded in response.

"It was no trouble at all. The effigies of your brothers should be finished in a month hence. It's taking slightly longer because of the direwolf companions, as you requested." The man explained.

"They were loyal protectors of our brothers in life, they should remain so in death. It's only right." Sansa replied.

"Of course, Princess Sansa."

"And the effigy of Lady Stark? How is it coming along?" Jon inquired, tearing his eyes away from Ned's statue. Sansa turned to look at him in surprise.

"It shall be erected in under a week, Your Grace." The sculptor assured him.

"Good. She shall be placed by my father's side. Again, I thank you for your tireless work."

"It's an honor to do this small thing for your family. The Starks deserve their rest." The man bowed again before walking out of the crypts, leaving the siblings alone.

"You didn't tell me you had commissioned an effigy for Mother."

"I was going to surprise you. I know she was a Southron woman but she was a Stark and whatever our relationship was, that's never going to change. She belongs with you and Father here in Winterfell." Catelyn had hated Jon and never tried to hide that from him or anyone else. But for a handful of moments in his life, mostly when his life was in peril, they had never strayed from a tension-filled, hate tinged relationship or a tolerance of one another at best but he never could've wished the horror that befell her. He never wished for her to die in such a cruel way. If she were alive today, she'd probably detest that he was King in the North now but all the same he would protect and love his family, they would always have that in common at least.

"Thank you, Jon. I know you and her were... she treated you unfairly, she blamed you for Father's actions. You didn't have to do this."

"She was your mother... and R-Robb's." Jon said simply. It still hurt sometimes to say his brother's name. Jon tried to avoid it as much as he could just like he avoided Robb's bedroom like the plague.

The two stood there silently for a moment staring at the figure of the man who had raised them, loved them, helped to craft them into the people they were today.

"It doesn't look like him. I mean, it does but it doesn't at the same time. There's something off." Sansa said after a moment. Jon stared at the statue for a moment or two more before seeing what it was Sansa meant.

"It's his eyes." Jon replied.

"Yes, you're right. He never looked so cold. At least not at any of us."

"Not ever, really. Only if one of our lives or well-being were in danger. I remember once, when the Riverlords were visiting, one of them tried to take it upon himself to discipline me after I stole lemon cakes from the kitchen for Bran and Arya. The look Father gave the man after he made the suggestion that he could flog me publically for my insolence... I wouldn't wish that look on anyone." Jon recalled, smiling to himself as he remembered his father's ire and disgust towards that nameless lord who would've dared to lay a hand on Jon. Later on Jon got all the lemon cakes he wanted.

"I remember that. Father had Betha give you enough lemon cakes to feed an army. You didn't even like lemon cakes so we all slipped away to your bedroom after Mother and Father were busy with the Riverlords and ate lemon cakes until we were sick with it." Sansa replied with a smile, remembering one of the few memories she had of all of their siblings, from Robb down to Rickon, along with Theon, bonding together with little to no animosity between them. All of them had rallied to Jon's side after that, even Sansa, if only because Jon would steal lemon cakes for her too and even though she was horrible to him he did it for her anyway. Robb, Arya and Theon sheep-shifted that particular lord's bed after that and he spent days going on about a smell in his bedroom while their Father would give them knowing yet amused looks for their antics.

"But even when Father had to carry out executions, he never liked it. He was never so hardened or cold about it." Sansa scoffed then, looking down. Jon silently offered a hand of support to her and Sansa fit hers in his, squeezing ever so slightly, the leather of their gloves rubbing against one another's.

"I wish I could say I've never imagined him like that but I have. Some deluded part of me really thought he didn't feel an ounce of regret or remorse or anything after King Robert and Queen Cersei made him put Lady down." She said the royals' names derisively, with no admiration in her voice like he sometimes heard when she spoke of Cersei or the other recent queen, Margaery Tyrell.

"I was stupid. We were arguing before he died because all I could think about was what I wanted. All I could see was that I could be a princess and marry my beautiful, beloved Joffrey and have his golden babies. Gods, I was such a fool. And he tried to tell me, so many times he tried to dissuade me. I thought he was trying to ruin my life, taking me from the prince, and I was too much of an idiot to see he was trying to save me." Jon turned to his distraught sister.

"Sansa, you can't blame yourself for what happened."

"I told Cersei he was planning to leave the city. I convinced him to confess to treason. That was me, not anyone else." Jon paused then before shaking his head.

"If the Lannisters really wanted Father dead, which obviously they did, do you think anything would've stopped them? You know them better than I, you know their treachery knows no bounds."

"I needn't have made it easy for them." Jon was silent for a while before speaking again.

"I was going to desert the Night's Watch." Sansa looked taken aback by the sudden change in topic.

"Jon, they tried to kill you. No, they did kill you."

"Not that time. After I found out that Father was arrested for treason, I tried to desert. I knew it had to be a mistake if not a lie or outright slander. Father would never betray the king, he would never commit treason, he would never sully his honor that way. I thought of leaving the Watch and storming King's Landing to do... I don't know what. Save him, free him, get our family away from that cesspool. But I didn't leave and then he was beheaded and that night I rode out of Castle Black. I was going to join Robb and fight against the Lannisters, get revenge for our father but some of my sworn brothers brought me back, they wouldn't let me leave. When I found out about Robb, all I could think was how it was my fault. That if I had managed to get away, if I got to Robb then maybe I could've saved him. I could've stopped the Red Wedding somehow, I could've figured out Roose Bolton and the Freys' betrayals. I could've warned him. I could've stopped it."

"Jon, there's no way. You would've ended up dead too, whether in the wedding or because you were executed as a deserter."

"Maybe. And maybe if you hadn't done what the Lannisters wanted, your head would've been mounted on a spike beside Father's."

"Or I could've saved him."

"We don't know that. The point is neither of us know. We don't know what could've happened and running ourselves in circles over it won't accomplish anything. We made decisions and there were consequences." Jon's mind strayed to Ygritte then and what could've been if he stayed with her. He most probably wouldn't be standing in Winterfell right now.

"They happened and we can't change the past, we have to accept it and move on." Sansa nodded in response after a moment, her face still troubled. She looked away from Jon and down in the crypts as the line of coffins grew into darkness where they could no longer see. Sansa turned to look at him suddenly and there was a brightness to her eyes.

"Do you remember when you and Robb brought Bran, Arya and I down to the crypts and scared us?" A corner of Jon's mouth quirked up at that.

"Robb told you all I was in lessons and then dared you to go down into the crypts."

"You were covered in flour and pretended to be one of the old Kings of Winter, groaning and making noises that scared the daylights out of me."

"You took off running up the stairs and Bran started crying." Jon recalled.

"I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life. You nearly killed me that night. I didn't talk to you two for days."

"I didn't get off scot free for it. I tried to scare Arya and she punched me in the gut."

"She didn't." Sansa said, amusement clear in her voice.

"She did." Jon confirmed with a smile on his face.

"That... sounds exactly like her actually."

"Robb thought it was so funny until she landed one on him too. We both had a bruise for days after. We told Father it happened in training because we didn't want to admit that our 5-year-old sister managed to land such a blow on us. I think he knew the truth though. I think he usually knew all about our misadventures but just chose to leave us to it."

"I bet he would." Sansa replied, fondly glancing at the effigy before looking at Jon out of the corner of her eye.

"She really punched you?" She asked again.

"She did. And tackled me to the ground so hard she rung my head like a bell." Sansa let out a giggle at that and Jon soon joined her. Arya always had been feisty, Jon should've seen the blow coming but before he could react he was doubled over breathless and the younger girl was screaming all kinds of abuse at him for "scaring the baby". Mind, Bran had only been and year and a half younger.

"You think she's alive?" Sansa asked after their laughter died down. Jon took a moment to think on it before nodding confidently.

"Yes. I would know if she wasn't." And he would. He didn't know how but he knew he would know if she were gone, in the same way he somehow felt that Robb was gone before he was told about it and how he almost felt like he'd been shot with an arrow too when Rickon died. He dreamed of Arya often, dreamed of a pack of wolves roaming the Riverlands led by Nymeria, and Arya was there running amongst them as wild and feral and carefree as ever. He hoped it was true, that she was amongst wolves. It would comfort him more than if she were stuck in a lion's den or even a trout's net.

"Word will have gone around by now that Winterfell is with the Starks once more. Maybe she will hear and Bran too. Maybe they're on their way home right now and all we have to do is wait." Sansa said hopefully. She wasn't very hopeful these days and Jon knew it was just a byproduct of having her girlish dreams crushed by the real world but it was still nice to hear that optimism in her voice after so long.

"Then we'll wait for them." Jon replied, an unspoken promise in his voice. Sansa smiled in response before looping her arm through his, her head resting on his shoulder. They stayed there for a long while, staring at their father's face. The crypts were the only place they could be surrounded by family anymore but they still had their family outside of Winterfell's walls. The Starks were scattered but winter was here and soon their pack, both living and dead, would be together again.

**Author's Note:**

> The second story about the crypts is straight outta the book with a few modifications made by yours truly.  
> The lemon cake story is inspired by Getting Home by ChemicalChance.


End file.
